by Danni Roan
"I don't know if I can," Jillian finally confessed, a tear springing to her eye. "It's so hard to let go."
"You ever watch an eagle fly?" Polly said, stirring something in a pan. "They glide through the sky as if by magic, nothing seeming to touch them, but it's the strong winds they ride. What if that young eagle had never let go of the branch when he first spread his wings?"
Jillian bounced Aaron on her hip, his pudgy hand twined in her dark hair, and something loosened inside her.
"I'm so tired of saying good-bye," she said.
"Then start sayin' hello." Polly turned, smiling, her piercing gaze soft.
"Do I have time to go for a walk before breakfast?' Jillian asked. "I need some time to think."
Polly Esther wiped her hands on a dish towel and reached for Aaron with a smile. "You go on. I'll take care of this itty bitty for a while."
A few of the town’s folks were beginning to stir, but for the most part Biders Clump was still quiet. Stepping out onto the street, Jillian wondered what to do next.
She didn't know anyone in this town. She didn't know anything. The spire of a church caught her eye and she headed in that direction.
A slight chill greeted her as she entered the small sanctuary and gazed around her. She'd never been one to go to church, she thought. Perhaps she believed in God, but to be honest, she wasn't sure.
"Oh, hello," a cheerful voice greeted her as a portly man stepped from a small room. "I'm working on my sermon notes."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb anyone," Jillian said, turning to go.
"I didn't say you were disturbing me," the man smiled. "As a matter of fact, I could use a new set of ears to go over this week’s message with." He lifted the notes in his hand inquiringly.
Jillian didn't know what to do, but suddenly felt it would only be polite to listen to the man.
Quietly she settled on a pew as the fellow began shuffling the notes. "I called it 'Why We Run'." His eyes twinkled with soft light.
Jillian nodded politely, her mind spinning with emotion, doubt and worry as the preacher spoke.
"The reading is from Hebrews 13:5, Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee."
The young woman suddenly noticed that the pastor was looking at her expectantly and wondered what he had said. "I'm sorry, what was that?"
"The verse is talking about wishing for what others have." Pastor Dalton continued, "Most people think it's all about money and such, and it is, but I think there's more to it." He pulled a stubby pencil from behind his ear and made a note on his page.
"You see, we forget sometimes that everything comes from God. We work and toil to make something, to have security and peace. Thing is, we don't really control any of that."
"Do you really think people can have peace?" Jillian asked, a bitterness swirling in her heart.
"Yes, even in the midst of trouble we can find peace, but first we have to let go."
Jillian gasped as her own words came back to her. She feared letting go more than anything, but the more she struggled to hold on, the more everything left her.
"That's why God says he'll never leave us. If we ask Him to come into our heart and be with us always, He will be. That does not mean nothing bad will ever happen, that we won't have pain or sorrow. It just means that He’ll see us through."
Gently the preacher reached out and laid a hand on her arm. "None of us are strong enough to get through this world on our own," he said, as if he knew the deepest pleading of her heart. "If we put our hope in God, we'll never be alone."
Deep inside something crumbled within her as Jillian listened to the words of the preacher. For so long she'd been trusting on her own strength, only to find it wasn't enough.
"How, how do you do that?" she asked, her soul trembling at the thought.
"You just ask," Pastor Dalton said. "You just ask," he finished, walking away.
***
Chip's pale hooves kicked dust up in the yard, scattering the chickens with a loud snort.
"You really are a brute," Ty laughed, patting the horse affectionately as he swung down into the dusty path.
"Tywyn, is that you?" Mrs. Nelson stepped from the front door into the relative darkness of a predawn.
"It's me," he called, striding toward her and taking her arm as he marched into the tiny hut. "I need your help."
Together they sat at a small table, his mother twisting the edge of the table cloth in her hands.
"You did it, you actually brought him in, didn’t you?" Clara Nelson's dark eyes were sad.
"I did. It's about time Frank pays for his crimes. I only hope he can learn a lesson."
"I'd like to see him."
"You sure you want to? It could be nasty." Ty's gray eyes were troubled as he imagined what his brother might say to the woman who had left them.
“Yes, I want to see him.” Ty watched as the woman’s hands stilled. He felt a strange connection to her and yet a sense of disloyalty to Mags, who had been a second mother to him. Deep inside he realized that he’d forgiven his real mother long ago.
“I’d like to talk to you about something else as well,” he began. “There’s a woman in town, she needs some place to stay.” His eyes met hers and he could see a mixture of emotions in their nearly black depths.
“This place isn’t much, but if she’s willin’ to stay here, she’s welcome.”
Ty smiled, and it felt like the first real smile he’d had in forever. “She’s got a little boy.” He dropped the words carefully.
“Is the baby yours?” There was no accusation in the woman’s tone, only simple curiosity.
“No,” Ty chuckled. “It’s a long story, but I want to help her if I can.”
“Now’s as good a time to get started as any.” Mrs. Nelson pushed herself to her feet, her narrow shoulders straight. We’ll see Frank first, then this friend of yours.”
***
“Bring me some of that coffee,” Frank called from the cot in his cell. “Ain’t no reason I can’t have coffee.”
“No reason you need to have any, either, if you’re gonna be rude about it,” Ferd said, but the sheriff pointed at the pot and the young deputy poured a cup, heading back to the cell.
“So it’s true!” The door of the jail burst open, followed by a fiery red-haired woman with flashing eyes. “That no account varmint that kidnapped me is here.”
“Now Janine, you slow down a minute,” Sheriff Pike spoke, blocking her path with his solid form. “You can’t come in here accosting my prisoners.”
“I’m not here to accost him,” Janine Sparak spoke, her amber eyes bright with righteous anger. “I’m here to give that low-down polecat a piece of my mind.”
“Ms. Janine, your vocabulary has sorta grown a bit since you married Bruno, hasn’t it?” Ferd commented.
“Sheriff, are you going to let me see the prisoner or not?” Janine asked, crossing her arms over her ample bosom.
“You promise not to do him any harm?” Pike asked.
“I promise,” the young woman agreed, her eyes still full of fire.
A dark cowboy stepped into the doorway and leaned against the frame, a wide grin on his face.
Sheriff Pike stepped aside, but turned toward the young man, who watched his wife sashay toward the cell. “Any trouble and I’ll expect you to take her home,” he growled.
Bruno’s grin widened, but he nodded.
“You don’t look like much now, do you?” Janine said, from where she stood by the cell eyeing the infamous outlaw. “Not so tough anymore, are you?” She placed her hands on her hips and looked like she was really ready to get going.
Ferd poured himself a cup of coffee and settled into a chair where he could watch.
“You know when I came in here, I was all prepared to let you have the sharp side of my tongue, but looking at you there in that little metal box I feel sorry for
you.” Her hands dropped twining themselves together over her skirt.
“You’re just a sad little man who never learned that anything worth having is worth working for.” She shook her head, her simple upswept knot of bright red hair swaying with the motion.
Frank Nelson bristled, his dark eyes shocked as he barked a short laugh. “You’re still a troublesome little snit, aren’t you?” he said with a snarl.
“Maybe I am,” Janine said, lifting her chin, “but at least I know that I’m the one in charge of my own life and that if I keep making the right choices, I can live with myself.” She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I forgive you,” she said, then turned and strode for the door.
Ferd and Sheriff Pike both stood stock-still, staring, while Bruno gathered her into his arms, kissed her on the forehead and left.
“Well, I’ll be,” Ferd said, his coffee rapidly going cold in his hand.
***
Tywyn helped his mother from the buckboard, watching the young shepherd and his bright-haired wife leave the sheriff’s office, and wondered what she’d been doing there.
“Janine never could leave well enough alone,” Mrs. Nelson said, her eyes hard as they followed the young couple who joined a blonde woman mounting the stairs to the Grist Mill restaurant.
“You reckon Frank got a tongue lashing?” Ty asked.
“No tellin’, but if anyone was gonna give one, it would be Janine. Her temper flames twice as hot as her hair.”
Mrs. Nelson took her son’s arm, still surprised that he was there or that he was willing to accept her after the hurt she’d caused.
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Ty asked.
“Let’s go.”
“Sheriff Pike,” Tywyn called out.“I’ve brought a visitor for your guest.”
“He’s a popular fella today,” the Sheriff answered, running a hand over his bristly white cap of hair.
“Whoever it is, tell ‘em to go away,” Frank grumbled. He’d curled himself up on his cot, his back to the outside world.
“Franklin Jacob,” Mrs. Nelson snapped. “I’ve come to see you and see you I will.”
“What’d you bring her here for?” Frank swung off the bunk, glaring at Ty.
“She wanted to see you.”
“Well, I don’t want to see her,” Frank’s words were a snarl. “Don’t seem like she wanted to see me before, why should she now?”
Mrs. Nelson stepped up to the cell, glaring down at her youngest son. “I’m still your mother,” she said, her voice firm.
“I don’t have a mother,” Frank spat back. “If I’d had a mother, I wouldn’t be sitting here now.”
Clara Nelson cut her eyes to Tywyn and he could see that part of her agreed with the man behind the bars.
“Seems to me we had two ma’s,” Ty drawled. “One who was willing to give up everything, even us, to make sure we lived, and another who was willing to work to keep us fed.”
“You called what old Mags did feedin’ us?” Frank’s bitter words were harsh. “No one ever cared about me, so I decided to care for myself.” He jutted his chin.
“We wanted to come back for you Frank?” the graying woman spoke, her eyes growing sad. “By the time your Pa died, I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.”
“It’s your fault I’m here,” Frank growled, his eyes wild and full of anger. “Go away. I don’t want to see you.”
A dark spark lit the old woman’s eyes and she glared at here boy. “I’ll leave for now,” she said, “but hear this. I’ll be back.”
Frank’s harsh bark of laughter followed the woman out the door.
Ty turned to his brother, his gray eyes full of harsh light. “You can be cruel if you want, Frank, but I’ll tell you the truth. You put yourself behind those bars. You could have done anything, been anything you wanted to be.” He leaned in and the other man backed off a step.
“I tried to point you in the right direction, tried to look out for you, but you were determined to go your own way. I even fought for you.”
Frank turned his face toward Ty. “I couldn’t be nothin’ but what I am, comin’ up the way we did.”
“That’s your excuse, is it?” Ty continued, “Well, now it’s time to pay the piper.” He turned on a booted heel and left the office.
“Are you alright Ma?” Ty asked, a softness stealing into his middle as he watched the woman who had given him life.
“I’m alright,” she said. “I’m always alright. I just hope he’ll come to understand someday.”
Ty lifted the reins of his horse and offered her his arm. “I’ll fetch the buggy in a bit.”
Clara Nelson took a step and Chip reached for her, teeth bared, but a quick flick of her fingers had him snorting when she pinched him on the lip.
“Don’t try any funny business with me, mule,” she said. “I’m quicker’n you’ll ever be.”
Ty studied the strange woman as together the three of them set off toward the boarding house, Chip trailing cautiously on a long rein.
“Mrs. Nelson,” George greeted the house keeper as they approached the house. “Go on in, Polly’ll get you a cup of coffee.”
“I didn’t know Mr. Olson even knew my name,” she whispered as they opened the screen door and stepped inside.
“I don’t think there’s much George doesn’t know around this town,” Ty said, smiling as his eyes adjusted to the darker interior of the house.
“Come on through,” Polly’s voice called, drawing them into the kitchen. “I just started a pot of tea,” she continued. “Take a seat.”
“Where’s Ms. LeFort?” Ty asked, peeking into the parlor.
“She’s upstairs. You go and fetch her while I have a talk with Mrs. Nelson.”
Ty moved toward the stairs.
“It’s nice to see you in town today,” Polly offered, pouring hot water into a pretty tea pot.
Mrs. Nelson huffed. “You don’t need to be nice to me,” she said, matter of factly.
“I’m not doing it for you,” Polly replied, just as bluntly.
Clara Nelson turned her hard eyes on the woman who could only be a handful of years older than she was and did something she hadn’t expected to. She laughed.
Polly grinned at the taciturn old housekeeper.
“I think I’d better tell you a few things.” Mrs. Nelson offered, finally accepting the delicate cup from her host. “Tywyn’s my son,” she said, not seeing any reason to beat about the bush. “He said he needed my help.”
“It’s always good when you can help your youngin’s,” Polly said with a smile, placing a plate of small cakes on the table.
A quiet stillness settled over the kitchen as the two women sipped tea, neither needing any special explanation from the other.
“How are Sara and Rafe getting on?” Polly finally asked. “Do you see much of them?”
“Yes, they come around to Mr. Dixon’s place a couple nights a week. He likes having Sara read to him. He’s a right old fuss-budget.”
“You’ve been with Harlan a long time.”
“Yes, took the job after his wife died.”
“Rafe tells me you make a wonderful blackberry pig,” Polly smiled.
“Yes, I think I rather do.” Clara found it strange that after all these years she could sit in the kitchen of the Biders Clump boarding house having tea with Polly Esther as if they’d been friends for ages. Perhaps sometimes change was a good thing.
Perhaps she’d kept too much to herself over the years.
***
“Jillian, Ms. Lefort, I mean,” Ty spoke as he approached the small room across the hall from his. “I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet.”
Jillian turned, her hazel eyes bright, as he entered the room, and the air seemed to leave his lungs. She looked different somehow.
“Mr. Spade,” she offered politely. “I was just changing Aaron.”
“How is he?” Ty asked, turning to the little boy who bounced on the bed,
holding tight to his mother’s arm. “Is his ear alright?”
“Yes, Polly said she’d treat it again today, but he should be fine.” She looked up at him and he smiled. “Who do you want me to meet?”
“Well,” he started nervously, “it’s my mother, in fact.”
“Your mother?” Her startled words were soft as she settled her son on her hip. “Your mother is here in Biders Clump?”
“Yes Ma’am. It’s a long story and I’d rather not get into it now, but we’d like to discuss something with you, if that’s alright. Something that might help you out.”
Jillian studied the strong chiseled jaw of the lawman. It was nice to think he cared enough to try to help her. “Let’s go, then.”
Chapter 10
Polly Esther smiled when Ty and Jillian walked in together. Mrs. Nelson rose nervously as the young woman approached.
"Tywyn tells me you need a place to stay for a spell," she said bluntly. "My place isn't much, but you and the youngin' are welcome." She twisted her hands nervously and gasped when Jillian reached out to give them a squeeze.
"Aaron and I will appreciate it." She smiled brightly, lighting her whole face. "It will give me a bit of time to figure things out.
She turned, looking up at the dark man who'd brought her to the little town. "It seems like my life's been turned upside down again, but I'll trail along and see what comes next."
"Can I help you fetch your things?" Mrs. Nelson asked, her sharp face softening as she gazed at the baby.
"I'd like that," Jillian said, turning and heading back to her room.
"Something's different," Ty said, his eyes following the women as they walked down the hall.
"Seems a bit of life has sprung back into her heart," Polly mused. "She'll need time to learn that sometimes the softest things are strong."
Ty blinked at the old woman, not quite sure what she meant.
"It's like a big pine tree," Polly explained. "You get a tall one that's all stiff and rigid inside and it'll snap in a hard blow. The ones that are soft on the inside, the ones that can bend, they make it through the storms."
Tywyn smiled, his mind running through the images of stone in his dream. He wasn't sure what had given Jillian hope again, but he was willing to do all he could to help it grow.